by Chris Harris
This is part 2 of my blogs on the ‘How Lewes FC Strangled the Life Out of Fan Ownership.’ The links to the four others are below.
The Death of Fan Ownership at Lewes FC. The Story. Part 1, 2010-17
It’s fair to divide the fan-owned era of Lewes FC into two distinct phases: 2010–2017 and 2017–2025, for reasons that will soon become clear.
In a later conversation with one of the inaugural members of the Rooks125, he revealed something crucial: from the very beginning, the board was divided into two camps, those genuinely committed to the principles enshrined in the club’s constitution, and those more inclined to sidestep them. This raises the obvious question: Why did half of the original six get involved in the first place? What were they thinking? Was it always a cynical move, to use the fan-ownership model as a cosy branding platform while quietly adopting strategies completely at odds with the ethos of fan ownership to build the club? I asked the question in Part 1, why were obvious people at the club from the original Supporters Trust, people entrenched with the town and club, simply brushed aside, not invited onto the original Rooks125 or later co-opted onto the board, maybe this is actually the answer.
At The Right of Fans, we criticised the board heavily. This internal dysfunction led to stagnation, on and off the pitch. It was the first major flaw exposed in the fan ownership model at Lewes: there was, and still is, no regulatory body. No mechanism existed to intervene when the board deviated from the constitution or the founding principles of community ownership. No one stepped in to say: “You may prefer a different path Lewes FC directors, but you can’t just rewrite the rules of fan ownership as you go, so get back on track.”
Fan-owned clubs are overseen by the Football Supporters Association, which serves in an advisory capacity and has no power to enforce censure. The Financial Conduct Authority holds legal responsibility for financial matters and governance structures, but it does not oversee the day to day operations or general direction of the club. At the moment fan ownership is just a DIY model, reliant on the goodwill of those in charge. Very much in short supply at Lewes.
On the face of it, things were happening. The new pathway was rubber stamped, the publicity machine whirred into action, and the club began its shift from a fledgling community institution to a branded commodity. It became increasingly clear to me that branding was being pursued as a shortcut to generate revenue, rather than as a means of building something authentic and enduring, leading to the pursuit of sponsorships and external investment.
The club’s vacuous image as a ‘new, shiny football club’ to build the club took precedence over the slower, more grounded process of growth through members, volunteers, and the town’s own resources. Essentially building a backbone rather than yet another flimsy business model. The Gordon Brown ‘no return to boom or bust,’ was rolled out as a poignant warning from the new board, as they set the club up to do the opposite of what they claimed on the tin.
This approach was paradoxical. The board repeatedly insisted that their goal was to create a self-sustaining club, yet their chosen methodology, reliant on external capital, top-down strategies, and branding exercises, was inherently unsustainable. It replaced resilience with dependency and eroded the grassroots foundation that gives community clubs their strength.
A truly fan-owned club should never spend beyond the collective means of its community, the sum of its parts. That is what self-sustainability looks like. Anything else is simply borrowing against the future.
However, with a highly skilled and talented former marketing leader on the board, his abilities were put to good use as the profile of Lewes FC rose. Matchday posters gained national acclaim, famous board members were courted, Nigella Lawson became an owner, and ‘beach huts’ were built as quirky de facto executive boxes. All religiously reported by friends in the national press as the profile of the club grew.
One development during this period should have been a major success, and ultimately summed up the deeper failings of the club: the construction of a 3G pitch. Across the country, small football clubs have been building these all weather surfaces, which, when properly managed, can generate between £100,000 and £300,000 annually. Worthing, just down the road, is a prime example of how a well-run 3G pitch can transform a club’s fortunes.
Initially, there was plenty of noise and PR surrounding the Lewes FC project. But once the fanfare faded, the reality set in: the venture was a commercial flop. The facilities were poorly thought out, no adjoining changing rooms, only portaloos and the pricing structure rendered it overpriced and underused. By 2025, it remained a glaring missed opportunity. Club accounts showed it brought in just £30,000 per year, with annual maintenance costs of £20,000 a derisory profit in the bigger picture. This failure became emblematic of Lewes FC under that regime: good ideas, poorly executed, and quickly abandoned once the hard work began. Flippancy and new ideas were the name of the game, rather than graft.
At community-owned clubs, the accounts must be published annually. What became clear was that, despite the relatively low running costs of a club like Lewes, we were losing money every year, often around £100,000. However, the balance sheet always looked healthy because two directors with deep pockets routinely covered the shortfall. This was a generous gesture.
But as former director Lee Cobb observed, it created a perverse situation: a two-tier board, where the “haves” effectively called the shots, and the “have-nots” put in the work and had to try and influence policy. One benefactor, Ed Ramsden, admitted to the fanzine he put in the least effort and hours into the running of the club of all directors at the time.
Directors may serve up to four three-year terms. Both of the directors who routinely donated to cover trading losses served the full twelve years. We shouldn’t be too harsh, boards are democratic structures, and during the first seven years, there was visibly only one resignation over internal disagreements. If others on the board had wanted greater influence, they could and should have pushed for it. Credit, too, to all those early board members who were well intentioned and worked selflessly to keep the club going. The two benefactors always stated that they would never leave the club in the lurch so there was really no reason for other board members not to push the agenda of proper fan ownership. And with a blank annual cheque, there no urgent requirement to run the club economically and build the numerous income streams available, the club could simply coast.
I should pause here to acknowledge something important. Many of the earlier directors at Lewes FC, particularly in the early years of fan ownership, were either retired or semi-retired individuals who dedicated upwards of 40 hours a week to the club. That level of commitment was extraordinary. I know I’m often criticised these days for being overly harsh on some of our more recent directors, but credit where it’s due: those early volunteers rolled up their sleeves and put in the graft.
I’m not someone who hands out praise easily, especially when it isn’t earned. But in those formative years, the club benefited from people who gave their time selflessly and worked incredibly hard behind the scenes. It’s important to separate that era from what came next.
As the club’s profile grew, those grounded, hard-working directors were gradually replaced by what I can only describe, in traditional football parlance, as Fancy Dans, people more interested in the appearance of leadership than the hard work it demands. They played the part, but they didn’t get stuck in. That shift marked a turning point in the culture and direction of Lewes FC, and it’s one of the reasons we find ourselves in the mess we’re in today.
About five years in, I met with several directors individually, and they all admitted the club had already “lost the town” a damning indictment of community and fan ownership. Local membership was embarrassingly low, and sponsorship from local businesses was almost non-existent. I felt an almost desperate acknowledgement of abandonment in some of them.
But at the same time, the pillars of fan ownership continued to collapse. At the fanzine, we increasingly found ourselves as the main force holding the club to account. When I asked one director why he had failed to deliver on the pledges in his election manifesto, I was stunned by the response: directors could no longer be held individually accountable, and all queries now had to be directed solely to the Chairman, Stuart Fuller.
This was a staggering betrayal of the principles of fan ownership, an ownership model supposedly built on openness, accountability, and direct engagement with supporters. Instead, it had morphed into something opaque and hierarchical, more akin to a corporate boardroom than a community club.
In fairness to Stuart Fuller, he was always excellent and prompt in responding to queries. Even when he knew the information would be used critically, he still provided it, because throughout his 12 years on the board, Stuart acknowledged the importance of discussion and transparency.
Sadly, when Stuart’s tenure ended a couple of years ago, so too did the last remaining bastion of anything credible about Lewes FC’s version of fan ownership. In his place came a poor chairman, Trevor Wells, under whom the already eroding principles of transparency and accountability all but collapsed.
Fan-owned clubs are permitted to co-opt non-voting directors with specific skill sets to strengthen board performance. I once asked the Lewes board why they hadn’t done this. The answer? They believed the existing board had all the necessary expertise. Yet there was nobody on the board experienced in catering, hospitality, or event management, the bedrock and foundations of non league football clubs. It cemented a feeling that for a fan or owner to help change the club was impossible, the walls of involvement were impenetrable.
Board elections are held annually to encourage fresh thinking and leadership renewal. At Lewes FC, however, these have long been treated as little more than a tick-box exercise. In theory, they’re the lifeblood of the club, a chance for owners to steer the direction of travel. But few prospective board members bothered to stand, as the board was now widely seen as a closed shop: “our way or no way.”
This is one of the biggest structural failings of fan ownership. Directors should never be allowed to serve more than one or two terms. Otherwise, clubs like Lewes become entrenched in a single mindset. All fan-owned clubs should implement rigorous election processes and actively promote meaningful member engagement. The last two board elections at Lewes saw turnout rates of just 10% and 14%.
And where did it all lead? At the end of this first era of fan ownership, we were a football club that had dropped two divisions, from National Conference South to the Isthmian First Division.
In part three, we examine the rise and the troublesome times of the Lewes FC Women and Equality FC, and how it brought in a new breed of director, clueless and directionless, who eventually brought about the end of and credibility of pure fan ownership. Coming next..the shitshow.
#Lewes FC #Fan Ownership #Football Governance #Gross Mismanagement #Narcissism
The Rights of Fans. 